


the devil drew you in

by murphysarc



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bunker, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, is the bunker a tag?, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphysarc/pseuds/murphysarc
Summary: the bunker becomes the only hope for survival, but murphy isn’t exactly happy to show off the place he was trapped for four months. featuring more bellamy/murphy.title from "under the knife" by icon for hire.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i should mention this is based off of jxnathanmurphy's tweet (https://twitter.com/jxnathanmurphy/status/829162682842492930). she's blueparacosm on here. she's pretty ok i guess.

_ “Run!” _

Murphy’s voice ran jagged over his tired, aching throat. He hopes that it carries anyways. It  _ has _ to - the cloud of poison fog can now be seen, drifting lazily over the water. Emori’s boat is soon lost in the deathly ash. 

These sort of things had been popping up more and more as the nuclear disaster became worse and worse. For a while, it hadn’t been bad. For a while, Clarke assured everyone that they would be fine, that they could survive it if they just stayed low. Her plan didn’t work. 

He doesn’t want to open the doors to the bunker ever again, but this is the only chance he -  _ they  _ \- have to survive.  _ The things I do to survive, _ he thinks, but then time for thoughts is over. Bellamy is at his side, yelling at him to hurry up.  _ Yeah, yeah. _ He’s getting there. It’s a process.

The doors are closed. Murphy hopes, with all that he is, that they open. If they don’t - well. He doesn’t get a chance to think about it. Just like before, the doors creak open, as if they notice their presence and remember Murphy from before. Bellamy is about to run in, but Murphy stops him before he can stop himself. “Close the doors for me, okay?” he says. The words escape. 

Bellamy, throughout the chaos, gives him only one moment of confusion before agreeing, wholeheartedly. Poison fog or not, Murphy can’t be the one to close the doors on himself. He just can’t do it, not again.

There are some things nobody should have to do, not even to survive.

Clarke makes it to the entrance first, pausing only to glance at them both before descending into darkness. Raven follows, seconds behind. Emori is next, her hand brushing Murphy’s before she, too, is gone from his sight. Her touch still sends lightning through his body. 

Monty brings up the rear. For a moment, Murphy waits, expecting more, but then he remembers - there are no more. 

“You sure about this?” Bellamy yells. Wind howls between his teeth, stealing the words, but Murphy hears. 

“I have to be,” he says. With that, he descends, carefully placing one foot after another. Bellamy closes the doors and follows. 

It is exactly how he left it, and by that, Murphy means  _ exactly _ how he left it. Glass and piles of trash litter the floor. The gun and video camera sit on the table, the latter without battery, thankfully. The giant TV screen is shattered, ripples of breakage worse than anything else in the room. 

“Murphy?” Clarke says questioningly, looking around. “What...What happened here?”

Murphy doesn’t reply. Instead, he steps forwards, eyes surveying the damage on the floor. He puts his hands behind his back and lowers his shoulders, instinctively taking up less space. 

“Sorry,” he finally says, kicking away a wrapper. It slides to the corner of the room. 

A beat of silence passes. “Don’t be,” Bellamy decides. “No fog got in, right?”

It’s good news, surely, but only a murmur of satisfaction comes from the group. “I’m going to rest,” Raven says. By this point, she’s stopped trying to hide the pain she still gets from her leg. “I’ll...find somewhere.”

She disappears into another room. Monty follows, without a word. His shoulders slump, and now that they are safe, he doesn’t look as put together as he normally does. Murphy can’t exactly blame him - Harper and Jasper, the two people he cared about most, were two of the first to go. Perhaps Monty is even more alone than he is. 

Emori grabs his hand, her first actions in the bunker. “This is where you were trapped?” she asks quietly. Murphy just nods, choosing to take the time to kick away some broken glass. He’s created a small, clean circle around his feet. 

“I need rest as well,” she says, “and so do you. Come.”

Murphy follows her, but only because it’s Emori. Before she takes him into the adjoining room, where the others have already claimed a spot on the floor, he risks a glance at the only one left at the entrance.

Bellamy just looks sad. His eyes are resting on the gun and video camera. They both know exactly what they were for, but - Murphy doesn’t look at him again.

 

-

 

Emori’s lovely, and nice, and everything Murphy wants, but tonight she cannot help him sleep. When he is sure that she isn’t awake, he slowly gets up and moves back to the entrance, starting his work from the door. As quietly as possible, Murphy begins to clean.

It’s therapeutic, he tells himself, but it’s not really true. It’s just a distraction, to keep his mind off the memories that keep invading it. 

Over there is where he first saw the video, depicting ALIE and her twisted plan.

Over there is where he began to lose his mind.

Over there is where he threw a blanket over his head and then began to yell at the sky. Why did he do these things? They made sense at the time. 

And over there, of course, is where he almost gave up. Where he was  _ going _ to give up. Maybe it didn’t happen that day, but it might have happened the next, and then...well, a poison fog would have been the least of his worries. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe - 

“Need help?”

Bellamy’s voice is barely a whisper, but it still manages to shut off Murphy’s deranged thoughts. “No,” Murphy replies. “Thanks. Go to bed, with the others.” He pauses. “With Clarke.”

Bellamy just laughs. “I’m sure she’s fine. We all are, now. Thanks to you.”

Murphy shrugs. “I didn’t make the bunker, now did I?”

He gets a nod in return. “I’m serious, Murphy. You saved all of our lives.”

Murphy manages to return the nod, and then he bends down, returning to his cleaning. Bellamy, he decides, is a terrible listener, because he soon joins him. “Go to bed,” Murphy says again, after a while.

“You first.”

“No.”

“Then I guess we’re here all night.”

Murphy sighs, dropping a piece of ripped paper back onto the ground. “Fine, then. Goodnight, Blake. Knock yourself out.”

Bellamy’s smile is the last thing Murphy sees as he rounds the corner and lies back beside Emori. Even in her sleep, she is beautiful. 

 

-

 

The next morning, or afternoon, or whenever it is that his eyes open, the bunker is completely clean.

“Bellamy,” he says, stepping out once he’s made sure Emori is still safe. “Why did you-”

“Consider is a repayment,” Bellamy says, rubbing his eyes. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Murphy glances once more at the sparkling clean bunker, his eyes finally falling on the table. The gun is gone, and so is the camera. When his eyes find Bellamy’s again, he receives only an understanding nod, as if he  _ knew. _

Bellamy has always known him better than he knows himself, anyways. 

He watches as Bellamy retreats into the other room, and then he sits slowly onto the couch, letting his body relax into the leather. For once, his memories do not interrupt.

**Author's Note:**

> is there even an additional room in the bunker?? now that i'm thinking about it the less sure i am. 
> 
> kudos/comments are like coffee. love you all.


End file.
